Black Owl
by Couture Girl
Summary: A black owl bears only omens concerning death-but at the same time it gives the receiver a reason to live and feel freedom.


**AN: Written for The Scenery Comp. Round 5. Scene #1. And for Round 2 of The Quidditch European Cup Comp. Christmas Vacation. With the quote, 'Every man dies. Not every man really lives.' William Wallace.**

**This is dedicated to my little sister Sara for helping me out with the Black Barn Owl and for helping fix the summary and title :D**

**Black Owl has been beta-ed by my beta HyperCaz after having some couple of reviews that there were a lot of SPaG mistakes, so here is the revised version, much love to Caz!**

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Theodore felt a slim arm wrapping around his torso and lips kissing his own, causing him to wake up. Opening his green eyes he was met with the most beautiful sight ever: Luna Lovegood hovering over him, with a dreamy smile and wide spacey blue eyes that were meant for him.

"Good morning, love," he whispered, a smile forming on his face, making his scar look like a dimple.

Her dreamy smile widened. "Is it the Wrackspurts that are in your brain, or did you really forget that it's Boxing Day?" she teased slightly.

"I believe it's the Wrackspurts…" Theodore answered as his smile turned into a smirk, his hands traveling down to her hips.

Luna hummed under her breath as she leaned closer and began to kiss him. Theo responded eagerly, his hands holding her closer to his body. Luna sighed as his mouth moved to her neck, his teeth nipping at a sensitive spot. Before her small fingers could skim his unruly hair, a sharp peck sounded at their window. She turned her head and her blue eyes narrowed at the black barn owl flapping his wings and pecking the glass.

Personally she loved owls. For one, it was Theo's Animagus; it represented him completely. But this owl made her scowl. This particular owl came from Azkaban, bringing only depressing, angry, tragic news – mostly concerning death, but Luna liked to add that with death, life was always near in one way or another.

Sitting up, making Theo groan in protest, she stood and opened their small window. The owl had to be from Azkaban because only they and the British Aurors knew the whereabouts of the ex-Death Eater. And she knew that Harry wouldn't interrupt them while they were traveling. The black barn owl flew inside and dropped the letter on Theodore's lap then flew away without even waiting for a treat. Both knew from the minute the black barn owl pecked their at window that the letter was meant for Theodore.

His green eyes fell on the envelope and its red wax seal containing the letter 'A'. Azkaban. A minute passed. Luna smiled encouragingly. Walking to him she kissed him on his temple. "I'll go see if breakfast is ready…" What she meant was that she would wander around the hotel in her white nightgown and speak to any small children that were around, giving the hint to Theodore that he still had to give his all – he had promised, after all.

When she had closed the door, Theodore picked up the envelope, inspecting it with narrowed suspicious eyes. He knew what it held inside, so why open it at all? Theo felt his stomach tighten. He knew that it was pointless now. Still he had to open it, to at least confirm his worst fears and release him from this battle he had fought since he was young.

Theodore's long and scarred fingers ripped the envelope from its pretentious wax. As he unfolded the letter his unemotional eyes quickly scanned the contents. It stated that his father, Abelard Nott, had passed away on Christmas Day 2002 in his cell in Azkaban. The cause of death wasn't stated but apparently the Aurors would contact him later with the results.

Theodore dropped the letter on the bed and was silent for a moment.

No emotions came to him. There was no sadness, nor happiness at the news. It wasn't bad or good news. Theodore was indifferent, emotionless, but not cold. He was detached. It was as if instead of being present in the hotel room, he was watching himself from above, inspecting each move he was making, as well as his thoughts and emotions. For the moment, he was empty of any.

Blinking slowly he stood up and reached for his wand.

What now? What would he do now he knew that the person that he had hated since he was a toddler was now dead, never to return and torment him? Eyebrows furrowed he had no idea what to do now. A whisper of a voice, a voice that he had thought had faded and been locked away deep inside him, reminded him of a place to visit. And in most cases he would have ignored that voice, the voice that belonged to his other dark and sinister personality. But there was a reason that Nott was part of him. They were the same person – always had been – but he, Theodore, had won in the end.

Quickly writing a note to Luna of his whereabouts and not to worry about him, he disapparated to the place he had visited often in his teenage years but less and less after leaving Hogwarts. The first time he had visited and said his goodbye he had not been allowed to cry. Returning after so many years made him fall on his knees and cry like a small child. The few visits usually came with even fewer tears. Not because he didn't have any but because he thought that his mother wouldn't like to see him crying when he visited her grave. Her unique and strange grave.

Alone on the top of the hill was a huge ancient tree. It would take fifty men with their arms stretched out to circle it fully. Its branches were as thick as the Knight Bus was tall. It stood, towering over everything around for miles – not that there was much around. The hill itself was the only one around as far as the eye could see. There was only a bare field of grass; there were no other trees, hills or buildings of any kind.

Walking with slow steps he bent and swiped the snow that covered his young mother's grave. Feeling the cold now and cursing his stupidity for not even bringing a coat, he hugged himself, using the movement to also hide some of the scars on his chest. Standing straight, he smiled anyway as his mother's name appeared with the rest of the details about her short life in just a few words.

"I apologize that I didn't bring any cherry blossoms, mum," Theodore said. "But this visit was short notice – you may already know why I'm here or maybe not. I doubt he's in the same place as you…" He rambled into a brief silence, shivering.

"Happy Boxing Day, by the way…" Theo immediately felt even worse for not bringing his mother's favorite flowers; he was such an arse sometimes. Gulping he decided to just say it out loud and not care that he looked like a mad person talking to his mother's grave. "He's finally dead," he whispered.

"And I don't know what to do or feel, mum. I-I wanted this, but now that I have it, I don't know what to do." It felt like the same speech he had said to her headstone when he had received his Dark Mark at the age of fifteen. "I should feel ecstatic, jumping happily, that the old man is finally rotting away. But I don't. I don't even feel mad that he's dead."

Taking a deep breath he pulled at his hair. "Am I going crazy mum? Because I feel nothing! Am I worse than him? He never felt anything." His green eyes widened as he bit the inside of his cheek. It was one thing for his father to be locked away in Azkaban, for Theodore to know that the old man was still alive, still present, still there. But now that he was dead... well, it was disconcerting. The old man had been the only 'connection' that Theodore had had with the Dark Lord, his mother, his dark childhood and teenage years. And now he wasn't there.

It scared Theodore that his thoughts were taking him to places that he had forbidden himself to visit. All his dark and horrible memories but also thoughts of his children (that he hoped one day he would have with Luna) never having to meet the man that broke and repaired him in the worst way possible. His children would never have threats looming over them, would never have to continue the family legacy in the Dark Arts and would never suffer through the horrible 'training' and all the horrible aspects that came with being a Nott.

His hands dropped to his face as a sob and flood of emotions surprised him.

Theodore was finally free.

The old man was _dead_. Not locked away. Dead. And the most confusing thing he was feeling now was that he would miss his father. The man that had tortured him with beatings, hexes, locking him in the dungeons and not feeding him. Maybe Theodore was a masochist and only permitted to be hurt by his father. No. That was not it. Or maybe it was, but what Theodore knew was true was that even though the old man had been a horrible father figure he had made sure Theodore grew up to be a strong and intelligent man.

In a sick way, Theodore Nott loved his father.

And right there, standing while covering his face, trying to muffle the sobs that were racing through his scarred and lean body, Theodore admitted for the first time in his life that after all the bad things his father had done, he loved him unconditionally. Even though he felt hate towards his father for treating him like he had and killing his mother when he was young, Theodore had always loved him and always sought his acceptance and pride. Because at the end of the day, the old man had been the only person who was there, telling him that he had to be great, never let himself be weak, never let others know that you were hurting, and that one had the power to change history as they wished.

Because that was what a Nott did. They changed history. They were strong and great.

And in the end, Theodore Nott had changed history, and was still strong and great in his own dark and brooding way. But like a Nott, always like a Nott.

He wiped the tears away, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Funny how he was crying for his father's death at his mother's gravesite. He hadn't thought about The Hog's Head where his father used to take him each summer. No, it was his mother's grave that he had chosen unconsciously. Taking a deep breath, his head held up high, he realised he had chosen it because just like his mother he too had loved the old man in the sick way only a victim could. But in the end he would stand strong and not make the same mistakes as his parents.

His heart pulled him to Luna. He felt empty again, but not because he was cold and emotionless – no, because all the weight on his shoulders was finally gone, never to return. Now he was excited about his life; he even had a wife to share it with. Lowering his head in respect for his mother and giving a silent prayer to Merlin for his father's soul, he felt the pull on the pit of his stomach and then he felt the warmth of his hotel room once again.

Theodore felt her warm hands on his cheeks.

For a moment no words were spoken. Luna knew what he had to do in private and now he was hers again in a much more stable and happy way.

"One of the many things that my father taught me when I was young was that one thing was for sure: every man dies. Not every man lives." Hishands went to her small waist. "Always risking death for a cause that was racist only to receive praise from a madman – well, now I understand my father for what he did. But it also makes me realize that this is one of the ways I am different from my father." He smiled at Luna. "I _am_ living and we make horrible and wonderful mistakes from living our lives."

Luna hugged him; already she felt that a part of him had escaped, the part that had been dragging her Theodore into an abyss of darkness. A new part of him was being built, so that he was more like her Theodore, the man she knew so very well from their other life and this one. He was becoming the Theodore that she had fallen in love with.

"I'm lucky that I'm living this life with you," she whispered as both held each other, faintly hearing the squeals of young children as they opened their presents.

It was all for the best in the end. It wasn't the best Boxing Day for the couple but it wasn't the worst. Strangely, the death of Abelard Nott made them stronger and more in love. Death had a funny way of fixing things. And just like Luna had always said – with death, life was always near in one way or another.

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**AN: If you read my work, this is part of my Head!Canon, so this is two years after A New Beginning. Please review!**


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